Yes, you heard me, reclaim that recess joy.
Have you ever been at a school when the recess bell rings, and the children start spilling out? They come shooting out of those doors, and the energy and voice levels are palatable. It's not only intense but the squeals and laughter can be infectious.
Something so simple like doing whatever makes you happy leads to improved mental health and better relationships with others.
Oh, and it reduces stress AND makes you happy.
What are you waiting for?!
I'm sitting outside, in the early morning quiet. The blades of grass have beads of dew on them as big as dimes. The sun has started in the east and the sky has just begun to light. I fill the feeders and go sit down. My neighbor's 80's music revival hasn't started yet so and it's just me, and hopefully some birds. I park myself on some outdoor furniture and wait. It won't be long. First, they come and alight on the fence, and then maybe tree. Finally, one goes straight to the feeder, and then another. I love to listen to them talk to each other.
And then I hear a bird call I don't recognize.
It's beautiful. It's so unique.
I freeze.
Should I?
I go inside to grab my phone to use my app that identifies birds by their calls.
I open the sliding doors like a ninja, and quietly return to the patio.
I hold my phone up.
The bird and its' sweet song are gone.
Discouraged I find the couch and finish my coffee.
And then I lie to myself that I won't lose a quiet moment like that again.
My father LOVED jazz. I mean he LOVED it. He could tell you how it evolved out of swing music, who influenced who, who were the trailblazers, band members, recording labels. live dates, you name it. Dizzy, Lester Young, Chet Baker, and the Bird were just some of his many favorites. And I frequently walked into his apartment only to find him listening to a particular piece and he would just put his hand up, bidding me to wait, until the piece was over. He would also sometimes want me to listen to a particular song, and his face would turn toward me expectantly. It was if he smelled something delicious cooking in the kitchen, and it was THAT good that he wanted to share it. I can still see his face as he watched me attentively while I listened. And when the music finally ended his eagerness was palatable.
"Did you hear THAT?" he would ask with SO much passion.
He looked at me, almost childlike, to determine if I felt the same joy. Just like a kid sharing a shiny rock, or maybe even a beautiful flower.
Which I guess he was.
And so as I do some very specific research on my NFPB Bio I find myself at my laptop, shaking my head, and chuckling to no one in particular. I am listening to all these different live jazz recordings circa the 1950's desperately trying to ascertain how an audience member might react enthusiastically to Bebop. Mind you, my search isn't totally fruitless. In the live recordings I am hearing some talking, clapping, enthusiastic yelling, and even some whistling. It's just hard to discern if it's the band or the audience.
You know what?
I know EXACTLY who would know. . .
I guess they call us birders? I didn't even know there was a name for it. I just know that I'm pretty much into it. Proof of the fact just might be the several different types of bird feeders in the yard, mini binoculars on hand, a bird identifying app,, and even a smart bird feeder on top of a pole set in poured concrete.
But that's neither here, nor there.
In the mornings I watch. I fill the feeders and enjoy my "B.S." time. Now, I know what you're thinking. (That's actually a different part of the day) B.S. stands for BEFORE SQUIRRELS. I have tried to acquiesce. But I will save that backstory for another slice.
There are so many WAY cool things I see daily while observing my feathered friends but one thing I see that is so beautiful is the way they defer to each other while on the feeders. So far I'm only attracting small birds mainly (sometimes an errant Blue Jay) but the Mourning Doves don't even bother with the feeders. They stay down below and feed off what the other birds knock down. (Some birds peck, dig, and make quite a mess).
If a bird is feeding and already at the feeder when another bird arrives at the feeder, the original bird will give up his spot at the feeder. The original bird will fly off and the new bird feeds. There is none of this "Me first" stuff. Or even the old chestnut, "I was here already."
Sometimes, a bird waits quietly for their turn on the pole. I notice that even theugh the feeder could handle MANY birds at one time, it is the birds that choose the feeding to be one at a time. Only the House Fiches ( pictured here-red chest) will allow more than one bird at the feeder.
I wonder what's up with that?
Now I'm not saying there is total peace in the animal kingdom. Every once in a while two birds will partake in some kind of fracas. This a definite type of aggression but it's pretty mild by human standards. Two birds hit the feeder in tandem mid air and will kind of come together. Then they fly in tiny spirals upward while flapping against eachother. It's almost like a face off, but still the two "hold outs" end up flying off, and another brand new bird feeds.
Ever heard of the old put down,"bird brain?" Well, guess what? That little walnut sized brain might in fact be smaller, but also more efficient. Said walnut is neuron dense and highly intelligent.
Sure, I bet my new read, Caitlin O'Connell's WILD RITUALS might have something to do with it, but I'm thinking we could probably learn a lot from birds.
